


Coming Home

by justkisa



Series: Sunshine and Rainbows [3]
Category: Football RPF, MCFC RPF
Genre: Multi, WAG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkisa/pseuds/justkisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Absence makes the heart grow fonder, unless you're Joe Hart, in which case it makes you insecure and moody. Post Euros.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

When the doorbell rings, it’s late. They’re curled up on the sofa in the sitting room, something eminently forgettable playing on the television. Louise’s asleep on Gareth’s shoulder. She startles at the sound of the bell and sits up. “What’s that?” 

Gareth shrugs. “Dunno. Were you--” The doorbell rings twice in quick succession cutting him off. 

Louise nudges him. “Go on then. Find out who’s there and tell’em, whatever they want, it’s too late for it.” 

“Fine. Fine,” he says, pushing up off the sofa. Louise curls back up, her hair falling over her face. She’ll be asleep again, he thinks, by the time he gets back. 

The doorbell rings again. Three times this time. Whoever’s out there seems to be fast losing patience. He makes his way through the house. It’s dark in the front hall but he doesn’t bother to switch on the lights. Just as he reaches for the door, the bell rings again. It annoys him. Enough is enough. He jerks the door open, ready to snap at whoever’s there, and finds Joe standing on the stoop, luggage in a jumble around his feet. 

“Hey Gaz.” He’s dressed in his England gear and the sight of the three lions on his chest makes Gareth’s reply stick in his mouth, the taste of it like sand. Resentment pricks, sharp and unwelcome, just under his ribs. “Can I,” Joe says, a shake in his voice, “Uh, mind if I come in?” He offers Gareth a parody of his usual smile.

Gareth swallows and looks Joe over. He looks awful. “‘Course,” he says, reaching down to grab some of Joe’s bags. He’d come straight to them, Gareth thinks, and that’s enough to wash his resentment away. “C’mon in.” 

“Thanks,” Joe says, and trails after him into the house. “Sorry to just,” he says, after the door clicks shut behind them, “you know--”

“Gareth, babe?” It’s Louise. Gareth turns towards the sound of her voice. She flicks on the lights. “What’s--” Gareth blinks at the sudden. brightness. “Joe?” She says it like a questions then again, “Joe,” as she crosses the hall. “You’re here. I can’t--” She flings herself at him with unbounded enthusiasm. Joe has to drop the bag he’s holding to keep them steady. Louise doesn’t seem to notice.

Gareth puts down the bags he’s holding and watches them. Joe glances at him before he returns Louise’s embrace, pulling her close. When she pulls back and tips up to kiss him, though, he turns his face away. Seemingly undeterred, Louise kisses his cheek instead. She pulls back but she doesn’t let go of him. “Look at you. You’re,” she pats his chest, “How’re you? Do you want, maybe a shower, or to get changed, or--”

“I--” Joe tries to interrupt her but she keeps going.

“Maybe something to eat? What do you want, hmm?” 

“Lou,” Gareth interjects, “Just give him a minute, yeah?” 

“Oh,” she says. She’s still touching Joe, little pats to his chest and arms, like she can’t quite believe he’s there. “Right. Sorry. I just--”

Joe catches her wrists and steps away. “I shouldn’t have come here. I--I’ll just--”

“Nonsense,” Louise snaps, “This is exactly where you should be. Gareth--” She glances back at him. “Tell him.”

“‘Course.”

“I--” Joe takes another step back. “Really I--”

Louise reaches out and catches his hand. “C’mon. Come in and sit down. When was the last time you had anything to eat?” 

Joe scrubs a hand across his face. “Dunno, plane, maybe.” He makes a face. “Wasn’t any good, didn’t really--” He’s meandering a bit, like he always does when he’s tired. “You know, didn’t eat, wasn’t good.” 

“Okay, love,” Louise says, with the soft, sweetness she saves for bad moments, “Go on in with Gareth, okay? And I’ll make you something.” 

“No,” Joe says. He’s still holding her hand. “You don’t--” 

“Go,” Louise says, stern and implacable, “Now.”

Joe’s mouth tips up. It’s almost a smile. “Yes, ma’am.” 

She smacks his arm. “Don’t you ma’am me, Hart. Go.” 

“Okay. Okay.” He steps forward and almost takes Louise with him. He’s still holding her hand. “Oh, I, sorry.” He drops her hand. 

She pushes him towards Gareth. “Never mind that. Go on.”

She gives Gareth a significant look. “C’mon,” he says, “Eh, Harty, there’s no arguing with her. You know that.” 

Joe gives him another almost smile. “Yeah.” 

When he gets close enough, Gareth reaches out and puts his hand on his back. “C’mon.” He’s about to slide his arm around his waist or put his arm around his shoulders because, once he touches him he wants more, to be closer, but Joe tenses at his touch and steps away from his hand. It’s nothing, Gareth thinks, he’s tired and he hates being fussed over. Louise the only one that gets away with it and not even all the time. He lets him go.

When they get to the sitting room, Joe sits down in one of the chairs instead of on the sofa like he usually does. Gareth pats his shoulder as he passes him. “You all right, Joe?” He sits down on the sofa.

Joe looks down at the floor. “Me? M’fine. Perfect.”

Gareth figures he deserves the sharp edge on the words. It was a stupid question. “Yeah,” he says, “can see that.” He waits a moment. “We watched, you know, every minute.” He decides it’s best not to mention, just then, that Louise couldn’t watch the penalties. 

“Yeah.” Joe raises his head. “You said, when you--” He waves his hand. “You know, when you called.” 

Gareth keeps saying the wrong thing but he doesn’t know what to say--what to do. It’s good, he thinks, that Joe’s here, that he came straight to them, but he doesn’t know what to do next. Louise’ll know but she’s not here yet and he has to say something, anything, to stop Joe from staring at the floor and fiddling with his fingers. “She, ah,” he says, “she wore that jersey you gave her. Every game.” 

Joe looks up. He’s not quite smiling but it’s closer than anything Gareth’s seen since he arrived. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Louise comes in with a plate in one hand a mug in the other. She blinks a bit, when she notices Joe in the chair instead of on the sofa, but she doesn’t say anything she just walks over and holds out the plate and the mug. “Here. Sandwich and a cuppa, thought that might be--”

Joe smiles, real and bright, and takes them saying, “Sounds good to me.” 

Despite that, he doesn’t really eat much. He pokes at the sandwich and takes periodic sips of tea. Louise settles on the sofa next to Gareth and chatters away, does all sides of the conversation by herself. Joe smiles and nods and seems to relax a little.

When it becomes clear that Joe’s not going to eat anymore, no matter how much Louise gently encourages him, she pushes up off the sofa and takes the dishes out of his hands. “Come on,” she says, dumping the dishes on the side table, “Let’s put you to bed.” 

“I don’t,” Joe says, smile sliding away, “M’not really up for, uh...” Louise tries to take his hand but he pulls away. “I should--” He stands up. “I should go.”

“No,” Louise says at the same time as Gareth does.

“I meant,” Louise says softly, touching Joe’s arm, “to sleep. You look, well, like you could use it.” She reaches for his hand again and, this time, he lets her take it. He looks at Gareth.

“Go on,” Gareth says, “I’m just,” he gestures at the dishes, “and I’ll be right up.” 

“Just leave them,” Louise says.

“Nope.” She rolls her eyes and Joe actually laughs. “Go on,” he says. They go, still hand and hand. 

Gareth waits until they’re out of sight then he switches off the TV and stands up. He straightens up a bit and grabs the dishes. Joe’d eaten, maybe, a quarter of the sandwich and the mug is still almost full. He takes them into the kitchen, empties them, rinses them, and puts them in the dishwasher. Then he puts away everything Louise took out to make them. 

When he goes upstairs, he finds Joe already in bed, eyes closed. He’s not sure if he’s asleep but he moves quietly in case he is. On the the chair nearest the door, are Joe’s clothes all jumbled together with Louise’s. He picks them up and dumps them into the hamper. 

He gets changed. Joe doesn’t stir at all. He still can’t tell if he’s actually asleep. He drops his clothes into the hamper and slips into the bathroom. Louise is there, wearing one of his old shirts, and leaning in close to the mirror doing something complicated and slow with lotion which he can never figure out no matter how many time he watches her do it. 

“Is he asleep?” she asks, without pausing her routine.

“Dunno,” he says, reaching for his toothbrush, “Hope so.”

“Lord,” she says, putting down the tube in her hand and picking up another, “did he look awful, just--Gareth, I don’t, I just hate to see him that way.” 

He spits into the sink. “He’ll be okay. He always is.” 

She pauses, her fingers pressed to her cheek. “I’m glad he’s here. He--I’m, just I’m glad.” 

He leans in and kisses her cheek. She tastes like lotion, astringent and mineral. She smacks him. “Gareth, don’t--”

He kisses her again. “M’glad too.” 

She swats at him. “Enough. I’m going to have to start again.”

“Really?” 

She rolls her eyes. “Go. Get out of here. Go give our Joe a cuddle.” 

“We don’t,” he says, “cuddle.” 

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh? What’s that you’re always doing on the sofa in front of the telly, then?”

“Not cuddling.”

“Uh huh. Go.” 

He goes. Joe’s exactly where he’d left him. He gets into bed, carefully, in case Joe’s actually asleep. He wants to press close, to curve around him, but he’s not sure exactly whether he should or not. He’s still working it out when Joe rolls over and wraps himself around him. He pushes his face into Gareth’s neck. “Joe?” he says, tentatively working his arms around him.

“I wish,” Joe says, lips working against Gareth’s skin, “you’d been there.” His voice is hushed and the words sound like they’re being dragged out of him against his will.

Gareth squeezes him. “Me too, Joe, me too.” Joe huffs against his neck but he doesn’t say anything else. His breath gradually slows against Gareth’s neck and he goes heavy and limp in his arms. It’s not quite comfortable but Gareth’s not letting go.

***

“Gareth.” Gareth thinks, at first, that he’s still asleep. “Gareth.” Louise sounds more urgent this time and someone’s shaking him. He opens his eyes. Louise is bending over him. Her eyes are wide and her hair is wild and sleep mussed around her face. She looks a bit frantic. “Gareth,” she says again.

“Lou, what’s--” He rubs his hand across his face and looks around. Joe’s gone. He pushes up a bit. “Lou? Where’s he? What’s--”

“He’s gone.” 

He sits up. “What? Like downstairs or something?”

She huffs. “No, Gareth, he’s _gone_.” 

“Really?”

“Really.”

He runs his hand through his hair, tugs on it a bit, trying to wake himself up. “Shit.”

She settles next to him. “Yeah.” 

He wraps his arm around her and she snuggles close. “Maybe,” he says, “maybe he just wanted to be alone for a bit. Likes a bit of a sulk, you know, after a loss.” 

“I think,” she says, “you should go get him. He can sulk here.”

“We could call, I suppose, see what’s...”

She drops her head onto his shoulder. “Already did. He’s not answering.”

“Huh.” He’s not sure what to make of that. “Dunno then, maybe--”

“Go get him, Gareth, please. I think, maybe, if you don’t, he won’t--won’t come back.”

“What?” Gareth can’t believe that. Refuses. “No. I’m sure--did he say something to you? Lou, what’s--”

“Please,” she interrupts, “Go. For me.” 

She sounds so forlorn that he finds himself saying, “Okay.” He kisses the top of her head. “I’ll go. But you watch, bet he’s just having a sulk.”

***

Joe answers the door just as Gareth’s about to ring the bell a second time. He’s wearing a ratty pair of track pants and nothing else. It’s horribly distracting. Gareth wants to reach out, put his hands on hips and trace the lines of his hipbones with his thumbs. Normally, he’d push his way inside and do just that but now, with Joe looking at him like he wants to shut the door in his face, he shoves his hands in his pockets.

Joe looks him over and says, “Suppose you wanna come in.” He sounds like he’s just woken up. Gareth wonders exactly when he’d left them. Must’ve been sometime in the night. 

“Yeah.”

“Was just gonna put the kettle on, you want?” 

Gareth doesn’t, not really, but he says, “Sure.” 

Joe turns around and walks away. “Come on then,” he calls over his shoulder, “if you’re coming.” Gareth follows him. It’s cool in the house, dark, none of the lights are on. It smells stale and closed up. Joe doesn’t look back or slow his stride so Gareth can catch up.

Gareth trails after him into the kitchen. Joe doesn’t talk while he makes the tea. Gareth’s not sure what to say, where to start. He waits and hopes Joe will say something. He just fiddles with the tea things. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t even say anything when he hands Gareth his tea. 

He takes a sip and almost burns his tongue. It’s perfect, though, the tea, just the way he likes it. “So,” he says, “Why’d you go running off?”

Joe shrugs. He leans back against the counter and sips his tea. “Just wanted to be alone for a bit.”

Gareth takes another cautious sip of tea. “Lou called you.”

Joe looks down into his tea. “Was asleep.” He’s lying. He can never manage to look at Gareth when he lies. He moves closer and reaches out to touch Joe’s arm. Joe twists away. “You should go.” 

“Come with me,” he says, “and I will.” 

“Why?”

“Because,” Gareth says, thrown a bit by Joe’s belligerent tone, “Because Lou--” He stops, starts again, “Because we missed you. And--”

“Oh?” Joe says, cutting him off. His lips twist into something ugly masquerading as a smile. “Why? Couldn’t find someone else to fuck her?”

It’s so crude and unexpected that Gareth steps back. “What? Joe?” 

Joe keeps going as if he hadn’t spoken. “That’s what you like, isn’t Gaz? Watching someone fuck her.” He turns away. 

Gareth reaches out with his free hand and hauls him back around because, if Joe’s going to say that shit, he wants him to look at him. “What the hell, Joe? What’s going on? What’s this--” 

Joe smacks his hand away. “Oh come off it. M’just--”

“Just what?,” Gareth snaps, “‘Cause, yeah, yeah I do like it. I like to watch you with her, ‘cause it’s you and I--” 

Joe cuts him off. “M’not the first though, am I? Just the latest.” 

He’s right. He’s not the first. Gareth won’t lie to him. “No.” Joe’s face twists, mouth turning down and he looks away. “But, Joe, that--that was--” 

“Different? Give it a rest Gaz.” 

“It was.” He wants Joe to look at him. 

“Right.” 

Gareth puts down his tea and goes over so he’s right in front of Joe. He wants to touch him but he doesn’t. Joe stares at him, shoulders set, chin tipped up. Pure defiance. “What’s all this Joe? What’s going on?”

“S’nothing, Gaz. Just, had some time to think, while I was, and I-I--” He stops. He slumps a bit and looks past Gareth instead of straight at him. “Realized what this is.” 

“What do you think it is?” 

“S’bit of fun, isn’t it?” There’s a lightness to his words but he looks like he looks after their worst defeats. It’s wrong. 

“No. Joe.” He can’t hold back from touching him. not when he looks like that. He puts his hands on Joe’s arms, runs them up to his shoulders. Joe tenses but he doesn’t push him away. “God, Joe, no. It’s not. With the others that was, maybe that was just fun, but not you. We’ve never--with you it’s different.”

“How Gaz? Tell me. How’s it different?” His voice is steady but he’s so tense under Gareth’s hands, like he’s waiting for a blow. 

“Because--because,” He’s stumbling, stalling over the words, because he doesn’t know how to describe it, doesn’t know how to put into words what Joe is to him--to Louise. “Because--I--we--I love you.” He doesn’t think it before he says it. Hadn’t realized it until the words left his mouth. It’s true. It’s so absolutely true he can’t believe he didn’t know it until just now. He says it again, “I love you.” It’s harder to say the second time. The words don’t come as naturally but he means them just as much. 

Joe freezes for a second, goes so still under his hands, then he starts shoving at him. It’s frantic and desperate. His mug hits the floor, shattering at their feet, hot tea spraying everywhere. “No,” he says, pushing and pushing, “No.” Gareth wants to hold on but he’s afraid, in his desperation, Joe’ll step on the shards of the mug. He steps back and Joe stops. “No,” he says again, panting a little, “No. You don’t. That’s-- No.” He pushes past Gareth. “No. You should-- Just go.” He leaves the room before Gareth can say anything else. 

Gareth stares at the floor, at the puddle of tea and the shards of blue ceramic. He’s not sure what to do but he knows he’s not leaving. His phone rings. It’s Louise. “Hey.” 

“Where are you?”

“Joe’s.” 

“What?” She sounds surprised. “Still? C’mon. I’m hungry and I was--”

“Lou,” he says, “Lou--”

“What,” she says, “Gareth, what’s wrong?”

“I--” He can’t find the words. He pokes the biggest shard of mug with his toe. “Dunno. Everything’s a mess.” 

“What?” she says softly, “Do you want me to do?”

“Come here.” If anyone can fix this, it’s her. “Please.”

“Okay, all right, love. I’m coming.” She hangs up. 

For a moment, Gareth stares at the mess at his feet, then he goes and finds a towel. 

When the doorbell rings, he’s still in the kitchen. He meets Joe in the hall. He’s, Gareth notes absently, put on a shirt. 

“Thought,” Joe says, “I told you to leave.” Gareth shrugs. Joe looks at the door. “That’ll be Louise, huh?”

“Gonna open it,” Gareth says, “or what?” Louise is leaning on the bell and the sound of it is driving him mad. Joe pulls the door open. 

Louise comes through the door in a whirlwind of movement, wet hair flying, smelling fresh and ginger-sweet, like she’d just stepped out of the shower. She stops between them, puts her hands on her hips and says,“Someone had better tell me what’s going on.” She taps her foot. “Now.”

“Your husband says he’s in love with me.” Joe flings it out, like he expects her to get mad, like he wants her to get mad. 

For a moment, it’s very quiet. Then Louise turns to Joe and says, hands still on her hips, “Well good.” 

Joe blinks at her. “Are you--what the hell is wrong with you two, what--” 

She continues as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’d hate to be the only one.” Gareth’s relief is so intense his knees almost buckle. 

Joe opens his mouth, closes it, then says, “Only one what?” 

Louise steps forward. “The only one in love with you, you great thick git.” She says the last so affectionately she might as well have called him sweetheart.

Joe steps back. “No,” he says, shaking his head, “you can’t. Have you both--what’s--”

“Joe Hart,” she snaps, just loud enough that Joe stops mid-word and ducks his head, “I’ll,” she continues, her voice going deceptively soft, “do as I please.” There’s an implacable certainty to her words. “I know,” and now her voice wavers, shatters a little, “that you, that Gareth is who you--you--” She stops. Gareth aches, right in his chest, aches until he can hardly breathe. “But I--” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. Joe reaches out a hand but doesn’t touch her. “It’s all right. I underst--”

“No,” Joe interjects, his voice so desperate and so raw Gareth thinks it could scrape his skin right open, make him bleed, “No. Lou. Stop. Please. S’you, and him, but of course you. How could--”

“Oh,” she says, so soft it’s almost just a sigh, and Joe stops and stares. She touches him, settles one hand in the center of his chest. “Then Joe,” she says, her voice steady again, “What’s wrong? What’s all this?” 

“I thought,” Joe says haltingly, “you know, we’d fuck and whatever and it’d be fun, it’d be enough, and--but--but we just kept on and I--I wanted--” He stops.

“What?” Louise prompts.

Joe steps away from her and turns away. “Nothing I can have.” 

Gareth wants to interject, to tell him he can have anything he wants, that he--that they--will give him anything he asks for. He’ll let Louise, though, Joe can rarely deny her anything. 

She follows Joe and stands just behind him. “Tell me anyway.”

“What,” Joe says, his voice so quiet Gareth can barely hear him, “you and Gaz have. I wanted--want to just, to have that too, with you, both of you, I dunno. I just, but I know I can’t--I--”

“Oh,” she says, stepping forward, wrapping her arms around him, pressing against his back, “Joe--Joe you already have that. Didn’t you know that?”

Joe turns but stays in her arms. He looks stunned, like he had the very first time, when Gareth had stripped her bare and opened her up to his gaze. “I--”

“Joe,” Louise says, “We love you. We never just wanted to fuck you. We want you with us. I know that it’s--that isn’t exactly easy or quite usual but we want that. Do you?”

“I--” Joe says again and he looks away from her for the first time and looks at Gareth. He’s pleading without saying a word. 

Gareth instinctively steps closer, stumbling forward until he’s just behind Louise. He puts his arms around her and settles his hands on Joe’s sides. Joe sucks in a breath, his chest expanding and retracting under Gareth’s hands. He stares straight at Gareth. He’s waiting, Gareth thinks, for me. “Do,” he starts to say. He has to clear his throat, the words are stuck, frozen in his throat. “Do you? Joe?” He spreads his hands along Joe’s sides and draws his thumbs along his ribs. 

Joe licks his lips. “I--yeah.” Louise makes a low, broken sound, as if she’d been holding her breath and suddenly released it all at once. “Yeah. I do.” He looks terrified but his voice is steady. 

Louise lifts up between them. Joe dips down to meet her. Their kiss is almost chaste yet the slow, careful fitting together of their mouths is, somehow, more intensely erotic than the most explicit things he’s watched them do together. When they pull apart, Louise slides down against him. Joe blinks at him, dazed and smiling, and Gareth leans forward to slide his mouth across his smile.


End file.
